Recreation
by RissaCay
Summary: Mr. Gold realizes that there is only one way to bring back Belle's memories and break the Queen's curse: true love's kiss. But first he'll need to recreate their romance. And that isn't simple since he is, after all, a  difficult man to love.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **

**Hi guys. Thanks so much for giving this a click. To my old readers: sorry, I know I usually write Snilly. BUT to anyone who likes OUAT, I really hope you enjoy this fic. It's my first time with these characters so I can really, really use your feedback. Way more romance/drama/ Rumbelle to come. **

Recreation 

The hall, although long, had the type of narrow width and low-hanging ceiling that caused someone even as small as Henry to feel trapped within its confines. The air smelt strange, dank. And there was something about this darkness that seemed to morph every distant brick into something blurry and hideous.

So Henry knew immediately that this was not the sort of place that anyone would visit by choice.

Regardless, he decided to venture deeper into the asylum. His imagination leaped with all the possible characters that could be hidden in this place.

The key he'd stolen from Regina's purse was heavy in his pocket. The jangling sound of it echoed off the stone walls.

Henry figured that now he had to guess—so, fully aware of the dangers that might ensue, he took out the key and began testing it in every lock.

"Well, Gold, seems like you're free to go," Emma mumbled as she opened the door to his cell.

The older man, who had been sitting silently for some time now, looked up at her with as much ease as ever. His long face and deep eyes portrayed nothing but indifference, and he replied, "Shame. I was just beginning to feel at home."

Emma handed him his cane, and he rose slowly. "You _should_ be feeling thankful that this was just your first offence. Next time, you'll be getting a lot more than just community service."

"Assuming there's a next time," he answered coolly.

"Yeah, well, we might be seeing a lot of each other if Mr. French decides to press charges—wait, where'd you get that?"

Her attention turned toward the gleaming piece of porcelain in his hands.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Swan," he said as he began to turn away.

"I'm sheriff, and it's my concern to see what criminals are walking in and out of jail with."

Gold spun around to face her. "No need for dismay," he said, holding the object up. "I don't think I can do very much harm with a simple teacup."

Emma, taking a swift glance at his cane, said, "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised how ordinary objects can be misused."

"It's a cup, Sheriff."

Emma found his possession very curious. Its arrival in his cell and its apparent importance made her wonder. But it was, after all, just a cup.

"I… I think you should go now, Mr. Gold."

"As you wish, Miss Swan."

So his slender frame disappeared out the door. Emma watched; even with the limp in his step, he moved with an odd sort of swagger.

Before Emma had time to think of much else, the phone went off at her desk. She answered on the second ring.

"Hello, Storybroke's Sherriff Office."

"Yes, Sherriff," came the familiar, bitter tone.

"Mayor?"

"Where is he?" she asked, "Is he with you?"

"Do you mean Gold because he just left—"

"For Christ's sake, I'm talking about Henry."

Emma paused. She starred down at her cluttered desk. "What?"

"He disappeared from his room after we did some errands this afternoon. I thought maybe he'd be…"

"He's not," Emma cut in. "But I'll call Mary to check if he's there. Or maybe the park."

"You don't think I've already tried that?" Regina replied. "I swear, for a sheriff, you're—"

"I'll find him," said Emma immediately. And the line went dead.

The door unlocked with a loud thud. Henry, holding his breath, stepped inside. Part of him expected a man that looked like Captain Hook or some kind of hideous ogre. But no.

A petite woman was curled in the corner, frizzy haired and drained-looking. She peered up at him with empty, blue eyes.

"Hi," said Henry.

"You're new," she said.

Encouraged by her detectable sanity, Henry walked inside and closed the door behind him.

"My name's Henry," he said, smiling. "My mom comes here a lot, doesn't she?"

The woman's expression turned hard as stone. "Oh, you're with her."

"No, no I'm not," he said quickly. "I want to help you."

Henry knew he had to maneuver himself carefully. Although he didn't exactly know what Regina was involved in, he was confident it had something to do with the curse. He couldn't wait to tell Emma all about it.

The woman was staring at him, as if in disbelief.

"You should go," she said. "I'm dangerous."

"You are?" he asked. But he sat down on the stone floor beside her anyway.

"That's what you're mother says, at least. I'm deranged." She laughed a little to herself in a very pretty way.

Henry, encouraged, said, "That's okay. She sort of thinks the same about me."

The woman met his gaze directly, smiled a little more, but said nothing.

"Do you get many visitors?" he asked.

She turned her head and starred at the far wall absently. "No, just the one."

"Then it must get pretty lonely."

"Well that's alright, Henry. I'm quite use to this provincial life."


	2. Chapter 2

When Emma found Henry trotting down the side of the road, a huge smile had lit his face.

She pulled over.

"Emma," he said, climbing into the backseat, "Major news on operation cobra."

She met his eyes in the rearview mirror as she hit the pedal. "Henry, you can't just go wandering around town without telling anyone; you're mother is—"

"Keeping a prisoner," Henry cut in matter-of-factly.

Emma turned down the car's radio even though it was barely audible to begin with. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you know Storybrooke has an asylum?" Henry asked. "It's the perfect way for a queen to keep certain characters hidden from the rest."

"Listen Henry, I know you're trying to figure all this out, but you can't just go running through hospitals."

"It's more like a prison," Henry mumbled.

Emma exhaled slowly as the car turned a corner. _It was,_ she thought, _rather suspicious that there'd be an asylum so under wrap in a town like this. _

"I met Belle today," Henry went on.

"As in, Beauty and the Beast?"

"Yupp," he said, "except in the book, she leaves the beast and, because of the Queen, she gets locked away and secluded from all of society. And now she's still like that—still locked up and alone."

"Did _she _tell you all this?" asked Emma with a smirk.

"Of course not. She doesn't remember any of it. But maybe if she met the beast again…"

Emma contemplated Henry's twisted fairytale. She was totally motivated to investigate, to see for herself if anyone was being kept in an asylum for unjust reasons. But if, as she thought more likely, this woman really was insane, she'd have to find a way to break the news to Henry.

"How about I take you home—"

"_But!_"

"I promise," she continued, "to look into the matter A-Sap."

….

"Morning Sheriff, Miss Mayor," said Archie Hopper as he entered the mental ward, umbrella swinging in hand.

"Moring Mr. Hopper," said Regina fiercely. The dimly lit corridor around them made her stare appear all the more menacing.

"Have you ever been to this part of the hospital before, Mr. Hopper?" asked Emma.

"I—" He looked around. The stone walls and the damp floor made him uneasy. "I can't say that I have."

"Well we were hoping that you could examine this patient," Emma said. "We're not too sure that she belongs here, and you're the expert in these matters."

"Certainly."

He eased into the asylum room. The women then looked up, and Archie was stunned by the beauty in her pallid expression—the color in her forlorn eyes.

"Another?" She said softly.

"Hello, Miss," he said. He didn't know her name, so the sentence fell short. "May I ask you a few questions?"  
>He'd already lost her attention. Her eyes drifted toward the far wall as though she were counting the spider webs. After a while, she nodded.<p>

"Can you tell me about yourself?"

"I'm the patient in room 43," she answered.

"I see," said Archie. "But can you tell me a bit more? What do you like?"

The woman closed her eyes and answered in nearly a whisper. "I like the mashed potatoes they serve here on Wednesdays."

"Anything else?"

"I like books."

Archie scribbled some notes.

"What kind of books?"

"And roses," she said. "I like roses."

…

His shop reflected him entirely—intriguing, a cluttered mess, morose yet somehow suggesting mystery.

The bell on top of the door sounded softly, so he looked up from a pile of papers.

"Ah, Miss Swan," he said, "Require my presence already?"

"It appears so," answered Emma. "I'm looking for a name."

"May I suggest Emilie or Robert or Adam," he said. His calm demeanor was evident as he leaned forward over his desk. "Those are some of my particular favorites."

"Ha-ha," said Emma. "Listen, do you have records that may help me figure out the identity of anyone in the asylum?"

Emma noticed a spark of genuine interest in his eyes. "What asylum?"

"Storybrooke has an asylum that, apparently, a lot of folks don't know about," she said. "Archie's been examining some of the patients. And one, in particular, he thinks can function fine in normal society. But we have to uncover her identity."

It was the first time Emma could detect any bewilderment in Gold's expression, and it gave her a curious satisfaction. He said nothing.

So she dropped something onto his desk. It was a slim slither of gold, no longer than a bracelet and no thicker than a piece of spun straw.

"She had this around her ankle," said Emma, "If that helps."

Gold stood up and, in a frantic hurry, grabbed his cane.

"I want to see her," he said. "Now."

Emma gave Gold a ride to the hospital. He said not a word the entire time. In fact, they remained in total silence until they reached the ward. Once there, their ears were filled with the sound of arguing voices.

"This is completely ridiculous," said Regina. "This woman is a public menace!"

"After thorough examination, I don't believe that she is. In fact, I can't possibly see how she ended up down here in the first place," replied Archie. "With regular visits to me, she'll manage herself quite nicely, I think."

Gold and Emma turned the corner. Regina's eye went rounder than Emma had ever seen before. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"He's here to help," said Emma.

"This is strict business, Sheriff," said Regina, "You can't just pull in anyone you see fit."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Gold cut in before she managed a word.

"Where is she? I want to see her."

"If you'll come right this way, Mr. Gold," said Archie, gesturing down the hall with his umbrella.

The party of four hurried down to room 43 where Gold, his body stiff as metal, peeked inside.

He starred in for a long time while Regina bore murderess stares toward everyone around her. Finally, he drew back. His lips were pale and his eyebrows raised high.

_He looks,_ thought Emma suddenly, _like he's just seen a ghost. _

Gold's eyes went straight to Regina. His voice shook.

"Madame Mayor, may I have a word?

….. …

"_So what do you do with it all?" Belle asked._

_ Rumple stopped spinning the gold and stared across the room at here._

_ "I mean, you have so much," she went on. "Where does it all go?" _

_ "In the trash, usually," he said, "For some lucky street-rat to find." _

_ Belle took a few steps forward and sat on the stool beside him. Part of her liked the idea of paupers digging hopelessly through the dump and coming across piles upon piles of gold. She smiled. _

"_So the _beast_ holding me captive," she said, mocking her fathers former tone, "does quite a bit of charity work."_

_ "Ah-ah-ah!" he said, "Don't be mistaken. I'm no philanthropist, Dearie."_

_ "Okay. But maybe tomorrow we can knit blankets for the orphanage and cut firewood for the homeless!" she joked, laughing loftily._

_ He leaned closer to her. "I give to no one."_

_ "But you give me food and shelter and soap each day," she pointed out._

_ He took her hand into his grasp. His touch was always so gentle and swift that, had he not been so maddeningly intriguing to her, Belle might not have even noticed._

_ "You," he said, "Are an exception."_

_ She smiled again, showing her teeth. After a while, she managed, "My, it's nearly seven o'clock. Shall I fetch dinner?" _

_ "Yes, yes. On with you," he said._

_ Belle stood up, smoothed her skirt, and turned out of the room. It wasn't until she was chopping carrots sometime later that she noticed the gleaming gold bracelet that he'd tied around her wrist. _

**Authors note: Wow. I was not expecting the amount of notifications I've gotten from this fic. Thanks so much! I'm so glad to see you Rumbelle shippers out there! Feel free to tell me what you think of the story/characterization so far, positive or negative, and leave suggestions. Thanks again. **


	3. Chapter 3

The office door slammed closed behind them.

"I hope you've chosen a successor, Madame Mayor," Gold whispered fiercely. "Because you'll be dead by morning."

"Oh Rumple," she replied, carelessly leaning her weight upon the abandoned desk behind her, "lay a finger on me, and you may just find you're precious little Belle in a far worst state than this."

His jaw locked, and he practically shook with anger.

"All this time," he said.

"Don't you start with that," Regina cut in. "You discarded her. You sent her away. I, on the other hand, realized her value."

"Enough!" Gold spat. "She isn't a—a trading card to be played against me!"

Regina's eyebrow rose. "Oh but she is."

"I want her out of here." Gold had nervously begun pacing the room. "_Please._"

"Maybe we can strike a deal."

"We've already got a deal!"

Regina pushed off the desk and pressed closer to the frantic man.

"We already have a deal," he continued again. "You promised me anything I desired in this world in exchange for the curse. That was our deal, and _nobody_ breaks an agreement with me, Dear. Nobody."

"That's rather vain of you, Rumple," said Regina. "Tell me, are you willing to let your own conceit jeopardize Belle's life?"

There was a thick and lasting silence between them. Finally, with trembling lips, Gold said, "What do you want?"

"Simple," Regina replied. "I want an ally."

…

Hushed voices filled the asylum.

"So it's decided," Emma confirmed. "The woman—"

"Belle," Gold interjected.

"Right, Belle… will be free to leave the asylum as long as she visits Mr. Hopper three times a week."

There were nods of agreement from everyone in the group.

"Okay then," Emma said. "Archie, would you like to give her the good news?"

Archie stepped into the room.

"Hello again," he said.

"Morning," she replied although it were late in the afternoon.

"A friend of mine tells me that your name is Belle. Is that true?"

She paused for a long moment, as if deciphering the question.

"Yes," she finally said. "My name is Belle."

"Well, Belle," said Archie. "How would you like a change of scenery? Would it be okay if you left this hospital?"

And, for the first time, Archie saw a refreshing splash of light in her crystal blue eyes.

"I'd like that very much," she said.

"Then there are some people I'd like you to me," he urged.

For the first time in a very long while, Belle stepped out into the hall. It was still a part of the asylum—still ugly and dreary and cold—but it wasn't room 43. And for that, Belle was overcome with joy.

She paused to examine the people around her.

Regina, with her dark eyes and porcelain complexion, she recognized instantly. Her unwelcoming gaze made Belle's spirits drop and nearly induced a shudder. Beside her was another woman—light haired and seemingly friendly. And, behind them both, a man loomed in the background.

"Hi Belle, my name's Emma," said the one, stepping forward. "I'm Sheriff here, and we'll be working very hard to find you some more comfortable living arrangements."

"I haven't any family," said Belle. "But I'll do anything, live anywhere…"

"Perhaps," said the man, stepping forward, "we can make a deal."

Belle looked him up and down. Something in his lofty steps forward, his elegant form of speech, and his long and narrow expression, made Belle feel apprehensive. He reminded her of snakes and caves and darkness in a way that, somehow, wasn't entirely unpleasant. Yet intrigued as she was, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that this gentleman was not being himself.

"What are you talking about, Gold?" asked Emma.

"I've been in need of an attendant—someone to look over my estate."

"What?"

"I'm not exactly in my prime, Miss Swan. And I spend most of my energy at my shop. I need someone to tend to my estate. And for her assistance, she'd receive shelter and meals and payment for sessions with Hopper. It seems like a fair enough exchange."

Silence stretched among the crowd. The man, she'd noticed, had avoided looking at her since she'd arrived.

"I-I don't know if that's the best idea," said Emma.

"No," said Belle, surprised at the urgency in her own tone. "I'll go. I'll earn my keep."

"There's other ways to make this work," Emma said.

Belle glanced over, meeting his eyes for the first time. And though she couldn't remember having seen many eyes in her lifetime, Belle knew almost instantly that she could look into his gaze forever, trying to decipher what secrets lay beneath their outer facets. "These accommodations seem alright by me."

"In light of recent events," Emma persisted, turning her full gaze toward the man, "I can't permit this."

"A word… in private?" he asked.

…..

Again, the office door slammed shut.

"I'm sorry Gold, but you just got charged for battery," said Emma. "I don't think that it's right to allow this."

"If I can recall, I'm not the only person in this room who's been in jail before."

Emma responded with only a glare, so Gold continued.

"I don't see why I can't hire help."

"But why her?" asked Emma. Her mind immediately went back to her conversation with Henry. _It was_, she admitted to herself, _an incredible coincidence that her name proved to be Belle._

And as Gold ran his tongue across his lips in frustration, Emma couldn't quite shake the thought that he did appear rather beastly.

"Look, Gold," said Emma. "You can find someone else to housekeep."

She began to turn away. Her hand was on the doorknob when—

"I believe you owe me a favor, Sherriff."

**Man, was anyone else bummed that there was zero Gold in last weeks episode : ((**

**Anyway, I totally think that The Stranger is Pinocchio. He can't tell a lie! What do you all think? **


	4. Chapter 4

And now she was back. She was back, back in his house, in his life. She existed once again and, once again, she was real outside of the realm of his imagination.

Yet try as he might, Gold could not quite grasp the fact that she was really in his house's spare room, unpacking her few belongings, oblivious to his overwhelming desire to break down the wall separating her room from his and confessing again and again how much he loved her.

But the reality of the matter was she did not love him. Not anymore, at least. More likely than not, she feared him. Rumors about him spread like wild fire around town, and who knew what information she had picked up?

Before arriving at his house on the outskirts Storybrooke, Belle had spent a few days with Emma. He was assured that this was in order to familiarize Belle with the town and buy her the proper womanly materials she would need.

But when he had welcomed Belle into his home just a few hours ago, he had seen the uncertainty in her expression. A look of hesitation invaded her eyes, and there had been something else there too: a sense of speculation that he couldn't quite understand.

Gold's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking on his bedroom door. He ran his long fingers through his hair and opened it slowly.

"Sorry to disturb you," she said in that soft, nervous voice of hers. "But when would you like me to prepare dinner?"

"At your leisure," he answered. "You'll find the kitchen's well stocked."

She nodded, promised to get started soon, and disappeared down the hall.

"Wait," he called.

She spun around and met his eyes. "Yes?"

He pulled the gold bracelet from his pocket. It gleamed in the fluorescent light. "Well, it's just that I have a knack for names, you see, so this was brought to my pawn shop in hopes that I'd identify you…"

Her lips stretched into a brilliant smile. "Thank you," she said, stepping forward.

Gold fought to keep his hands still as he placed the gold chain around her slender wrist.

"It's a lovely piece," he noted.

She looked down at her bracelet then up at him. "It is, isn't it?"

He paused, feeling loss for words.

Her smile changed from one of genuine happiness to that of playful knowingness. "Well, Mr. Gold, I hope you enjoy pasta," she said. "Because that's my specialty."

"In fact, I do," he said. He was thankful that 1) she had saved him from blundering like an idiot, and 2) she had remembered her ability to cook after the curse.

Belle turned and hurried down the hall.

With each step, she struggled to keep herself from dancing. She had become so accustomed to that dull, lasting sensation that being trapped and isolated had left inside of her. But now it was gone, and so she smiled, hummed, and damn-nearly summersaulted as she prepared dinner for two.

It wasn't long before her and Gold sat together at the table. Belle wasn't use to company so their encounter was quite awkward.

"Find everything in the cupboards okay?"

"Oh yes," she said. "Quite easily, thank you."

"…"

"…"

"Well, the meal is lovely. I really did need someone around to make up for my utter incapability to cook."

"Well, thank you. I'm glad to oblige."

"You didn't chip any teacups?"

"What? No, why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said.

…

The stone walls. Greyish, greenish stone walls. They were so tall, yet so enclosed. So familiar, yet so unwelcoming.

Then one by one, the bricks began to crumble. They fell from high places, raining down on her. In time, she realized, she'd be buried alive.

And then there was a face. A wickedly pretty face, with dark eyes and apple-red lips.

"_theses walls will kill me…" _

"No, no, my dear Belle," said the queen. "I will kill you."

And then the sound of falling stones mixed with her hysterical laughter. And all the light disappeared.

….

Belle woke, piercingly screaming in her bed.

Hands shaking, she gripped the sheets around her.

Gold stumbled into the room. "What, what is it?" he asked.

"I'm not going back," Belle screamed, holding herself. "The walls are falling…"

He took a few steps forward, stumbling without his cane. He sat on the bed beside her. "Belle, I think you've had a nightma—"

But he was cut short because she had dove into him, crying uncontrollably against his chest. "I'm not going there, not with her…"

Gold, unsure of himself, wrapped his arms around her. "You don't need to go anywhere," he said, but her tears continued to stain his nightshirt.

His entire body pulsed with rage. What had they done to her in that place?

His hold tightened around her.

"You will _never_ see that Hell again," he promise, but she couldn't even hear him over the agonized sound of her own sobs.  
>Her head moved upward so that Gold felt her tears wet against his neck.<p>

"Belle I—" but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

She was so meek a fragile in his hold, not the Belle her knew—not the endlessly brave and selfless Belle he knew.

She begged him not to leave, so he held her all night.

**Hey guys! I'm sorry that it's been a while. I've been uber busy. Oh, if you have A TUMBLR please consider checking out my blog. http:/thatgirlcarissa(dot)tumblr(dot)com/ If I get, say, 25 new followers I pinky promise to upload a new chapter by the end of the week : )) and I follow back. love ya all!**


	5. Chapter 5

Belle woke, feeling at once the sense of comfort that only hours of sleep and warm sheets could bring. And there was a scent too, a familiar and musky scent that delighted her with every deep inhale.

But this peace was short lived. Soon she felt a heartbeat beneath her ear and realized with horror that her head was rested on a man's chest. She shot upright and looked down at the sleeping figure beside her. Memories came flooding in—the nightmare, the screams, and the terrible need for comfort. She had forced him to stay, and her face flushed red with embarrassment.

Belle hurried off the bed and into the restroom where she dressed quickly and splashed her face with water. _How could she have been so demented? _She thought gloomily. _Now he'll be sending me back to the hospital for sure._

When she returned to the bedroom, Mr. Gold had risen.

"I am so, so terribly sorry," Belle began. "I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. I…"

But the corner of his mouth merely twitched into a small smile.

"Not to worry, Dearie," he said. "Dreams, or nightmares rather, can be frightening for all of us. That realm of fantasy… well, it's not quite all that it's hyped up to be."

Belle nodded awkwardly. "I really am sorry though. Not quite the first impression I was intending to make."

"Yes well, impressions can be deceiving," he said.

He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt, Belle observed, and he looked so meek and endearing.

"I couldn't agree more. If you don't mind me saying, folks around town seem to have this impression that, well, you're a bit of a…"

"Monster?" He laughed softly, sitting on the unmade bed.

Belle approached him, helping herself to the seat beside his. "I was going to say intimidating figure."

"Ah, well, they wouldn't be mistaking."

"They seem to think that you're so cold and stern."

"Again," he said, "a fair description."

She leaned her head in, and smirking, dropped her voice to a near whisper. "Well there's nothing cold and stern about being in your arms…"

With that, she stood up, expressed her desire to make pancakes, and left the room smiling.

…..

"Hello again, Belle," said Archie. He was a neatly kept little man, and his office was maintained in an unshockingly similar fashion. He sat on a green office chair and Belle on a sofa to match.

"Hello," she said.

"And how have you been?"

Belle paused to think. It had only been a few short days since she'd seen him last, but admittedly, they had been rather eventful ones. "I'm doing well, thank you."

"Liking you're new living arrangements?"

"Yes," she said, picturing her bed and window and dresser, "it's all quite lovely."

"And the work?"

"Just fine."

Archie exhaled and leaned forward. "Now, is there anything you wish to talk about that's been… less than fine?"

Belle understood what incident he meant.

"Well, there's been some nightmares."

He scribbled a note on his clipboard. "And what do you see in these nightmares?"

"I see myself in that room again," Belle said. The leather green sofa suddenly provoked discomfort. "The—the walls are falling and I can't get out."

"And how do you feel during these dreams?"

She laughed with soft irony. "Well, I feel bloody horrified."

"And the feeling lasts when you awake?"

Blushing, she shifted in her seat. "The other night, I woke up screaming. I don't think I realized the difference between asleep and awake. All I could think about was being pulled back into that place. And I—well I, I was quite a mess."

"And how long did that last?"

"Um, thirty minutes maybe? Until I feel back asleep."

He scribbled again. "And that's how the feeling ended? By sleeping?"

"Well not exactly."

Part of Belle knew that she should trust Archie, but another cringingly retched part kept telling her that her comfort that night had been deeply personal. "I—actually… Mr. Gold came in after hearing my screams."

His eyebrows twitched up slightly. "And what did he do?"

"He came to me, tried to bring me to my senses. And I found myself clinging to him… n-not letting him go. Oh, that's troubling isn't it?"

"No, no," said Archie. "It's completely natural. One of our most basic human needs is to seek comfort in others, and after so many years with so little communication with anyone, you likely felt secure being beside another human being."

And Belle supposed that that's what she felt, security.

…

Mr. Gold attempted to read the newspaper one morning, but he only found himself listening to Belle. She was only a room away cleaning the kitchen, but the sound of her humming to herself carried down the hall.

After a while, Gold could take the sound of it no longer. He drifted into the room.

"Nice tune," he said.

Started, she dropped the cup she'd been holding. It hit the floor with a soft clatter.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that I didn't expect you there…"She bent down to receive the cup. "I've scratched it but…but it already had a chip. Should I throw it out?"

Gold couldn't keep himself from laughing at the irony.

"What's so funny?" asked Belle.

"Was there a reason you had _that _particular cup?" he asked, suppressing a smile.

"I was just curious as to why it wasn't with the rest," she said.

Gold sat down at the table, still grinning to himself. "Don't concern yourself about the scratch; just put it back where you found it."

Belle agreed, placing it on the top counter carefully.

"Is there anything you'd like, Mr. Gold. A tea perhaps?"

"Only if you'll have a cup and a join me," he answered.

Belle laughed and soon sat down at the table opposite him.

"There's been something I've been meaning to ask you," said Belle, taking a sip.

Gold took a drink as well, pinky-up, and rose his eyebrows as if to say _please proceed._

"I was just wondering, what's your first name?" she asked.

Gold placed his tea cup on the counter. "Hmm?"

"It's just that no one here in town seems to ever call you anything but Mr. Gold."

"Well," he said. "I quite like it that way."

Belle leaned forward, smirking. "Oh come now, what's the harm in telling me?"

He bit down on his lower lip thoughtfully.

"Oh, wouldn't it be fine if just _one_ person called you by your first name?" she pressed.

"I'll tell you what," said Gold, "If you can guess my name, then you can call me whatever you'd like."

**Man, is it just me, or have the last two episodes been super good! I love Grumpy and Red! Anyhoo, please review. I'm hearing less and less from you guys! Talk to me, my loves!**

**Also, if you're interested ;) .com/ … .. .. **


	6. Chapter 6

"Jonothan?" she guessed.

"Nope."

It was early morning, and he sat examining some old paperwork that he'd brought home from his shop the night before. It was a cold, cloudy day, and he'd been waiting for hours for her to wake.

"Would you like some breakfast, Jerrold?" she asked.

"No thank you to the breakfast, and no, not Jerrold."

She grabbed an apple from the counter and sat beside him on the sofa; there was an acceptable distance between them, but her closeness still made his pulse quicken.

"Albert?"

"No…"

"Paul?"

"No."

"Timmy?"

For the first time, he looked up from his papers to stare at her quizzically. "Do I _look_ like a Timmy?"

"You never know," she replied, shrugging. "By the way, I'll be going out with Emma and the girls tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yes well, during my time off of course."

"Then I shan't be expecting to see you this afternoon," he replied.

"No, you _shan't,_" she said, mocking his formal tone.

His stare bore into her, and a little crease appeared between his eyes. "Watch it, Dearie. You seem to forget that I am still your employer."

Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows rose dramatically, faking extreme offense. "Are you threatening to fire me, Mr. Gold?"

"Maybe," he said, leaning forward, "if you don't learn to watch that pretty little mouth of yours."

She met his challenge by leaning forward as well, and soon she was close enough for Gold to smell the sweet scent of apple on her breath.

"You couldn't. You'd be so lonely again."

He scoffed. "Lonely? Is that what you think?"

"You are neat as a button, Mr. Gold. You clean all your own clothes, pick up all your own dishes. It seems to me that you need a maid like a fish needs a bicycle. So why pay me to be here?"

"You sure do flatter yourself."

She merely smiled. "I don't think these town people understand you. Maybe they're a bit narrow-minded, or maybe you've done some awful things to destroy your reputation here. But they don't understand you, I think, and so you're lonely."

"Or maybe you're just misinformed," he sneered.

"Whatever you say, Peter."

"Peter?"

"Peter? It's Peter, isn't it! Peter?"

"No," he said, smirking, "it's not Peter."

…..

Henry checked the time on his cell phone. 8:00 and zero missed calls from Regina. _Perfect,_ he thought, smiling.

He trudged through the rain and cold. It wasn't long before he was standing outside the front door of the Margret residence, eager to see his mom.

But he noticed that the door was opened ever so slightly, and though the crack was small, it was still enough for voices to drift through.

"Well ladies," said Emma's voices, "Thank God we're stocked up on drinks because it looks way too stormy to drive to the bar tonight."

"Hand me that bottle," came the voice of Mary.

Henry stifled some laughter.

"A little rain's keeping you from having a good time?" said Ruby bitterly.

Then Emma: "No one wants you drunk and behind the wheel on a night like this…"

"Whatever you say _sheriff_," replied Ruby mockingly. "I just feel bad for poor Belle here. Locked up all day with that nasty old Mr. Gold, she at least deserves one night of fun."

At hearing Belle's name, Henry's interest peaked. Shivering, he leaned forward to press his ear to the door's opening.

"It's not all that bad, really," sad Belle.

"Well, compared to being in an asylum…"

"Ruby!" said Emma and Mary simultaneously.

"What?" she said. "I'm only speaking the truth. Just the other day, Gold came into the diner to collect his pay. My Granny was thirty dollars short of eight hundred since we had to replace a window… some kids broke it with a baseball—and he nearly had her evicted. All over _thirty dollars_. The prick."

Henry, who knew little of the adult world, could still sense that Ruby had had a few drinks prior to his arrival.

"That's strange," said Belle after a moment. "He pays me quite generously, and I barely find myself doing any work at all."

"He probably just keeps you around so he can have something pretty to look at, old perv," Ruby went on.

"Now that's what worried me too," said Emma. There was a _pop_, like champagne being opened. "But don't worry, Belle. Soon you'll have earned enough to move out and seek other jobs."

"But it's not like that," Belle protested. "Honestly, he's a perfect gentleman."

"So you never catch him eyeing you? Like a wolf, stalking its prey…" asked Ruby.

Henry could barely hear Belle's reply over the heavy rain.

"I… well, he—"

"Leave her alone. You're making her uncomfortable," argued Mary softly.

"No," said Belle, "Mr. Gold is a curious man—a man who clearly detaches himself from others. But he's not a bad man. He's rather sweet, actually, and witty and playful…"

Then came the sound of bark-like laughter. "Someone here has a bit of a crush," said Ruby. "And on Gold, of all people. See, this is why we need to take her out. She needs to learn about the other men Storybrooke has to offer."

"Ah, leave her alone," said Emma. "I'm sure Gold is a decent man to work for. Now, think we can order a pizza through this storm?"


	7. Chapter 7

It was a terrible storm, and Rumple's rather large estate felt alive in the strangest ways. The furniture seemed to move in the darkness and the noises left Belle feeling uneasy.

She hadn't been here for many nights, but this, she was sure, was the worst of them.

But _you are brave_, she told herself.

She had spent most of the day ignoring the storm in the library. There, among the many books, she at least seemed at home.

But soon she felt the need to leave when he came creeping in.

"Going so soon are ya', Dearie?" he had asked.

"Yes well," she said, putting aside a book. "I was going to read this. It's my very favorite, but I'm afraid the pages are so very old and torn that it's no longer legible."

She regretfully left it—the dark green, earthy book that she loved so dearly—on the counter and removed herself from his presence as quickly as possible.

She spent the next few hours in her room. But thunder made her anxious, so she crossed the living room and peered out the window. And there, she realized with horror, was a package near the gate that was being attacked by rain and wind. Belle bit down on her lower lip nervously. It was her duty to collect all of Rumple's mail each day, and this morning she had forgotten.

Belle had no desire to leave the comfort of the house. But what if for disobeying him, the beast locked her in the dungeons again? Surely, on a night like this, she would die down there in the cold.

She pulled on her heaviest shawl and pushed the door open. Instantly, the icy weather seemed to seep deep into her as she pushed forward.

She took a series of quick steps until she reached the gate. The wind whistled, blowing her hair and obstructing her view. But she was thankful when she reached the package, and shivering, she picked it up and held it in her arms.

She ran back to the door. She had to angle the package under her chin in order to free a hand to reach for the handle. _But oh_, she realized with distress, _the door had locked behind her._

She dropped the package into the puddle near her feet. This yard offered not even a canopy to protect her from the storm; her body shook, and she was sure she would freeze.

The rain poured down on her for what seemed like centuries. She pounded on the door, screamed as loud as she could. Finally, with fingers that would barely curl into a fist, Belle thought to go around to the library and knocked on the large window.

She saw his figure through the splashed class. She wondered how mad he would be at the interruption, but before he moved an inch, Belle felt faint. She fell onto the soaking grass.

When she opened her eyes again, his face was close to hers. And through her daze, she noticed not the green skin or the yellowness of his wicked smile. She saw only his intriguing set of large, human eyes. And they were concerned…for her?

He scooped her up off the floor. And despite the storm, his touch was soft and warm. She felt herself curling into his chest. He smelt of ink, parchment, and even of cinnamon candles.

And soon they were in the house again. She heard the door slam closed behind them.

He placed her on the nearest couch. With magic speed, he made a fire roar in the nearby fire place and summoned tea and blankets.

He removed the outer layers of her shawl and dress and replaced them with the warm blankets. Belle watched the flames dance as his arms curled the sheets around her.

"You silly thing, whatever were you doing out there?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "The package…"

His eyebrows rose. "You went out there, for a mere package? You nearly died of frostbite."

His tone sounded almost protective. Regaining herself a bit, Belle sat up.

"And then what? The little deal you made with my father would have left you un-benefited?"

"Well precisely," he said, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to her. "I didn't fend off a herd of ogres for you to go running off into a hurricane now did I?"

She took a sip and was sure it was the best tea she'd ever tasted.

Rumple poured a cup for himself and sat in the armchair nearest her.

"There's nothing else you need, I assume?" he asked. "Because I can fetch it for you."

"No, I'm okay," said Belle.

A silence stretched between them, and Belle began to feel well again. Finally, when her cup was nearly empty, she looked at him and said, "Thank you, Rumplestilskin."

"Yes well… don't you go out there again."

"What was in the package, anyway?"

Having forgotten about the mail, he left to retrieve it from his doorstep. When he opened the package, she heard him laughing to himself. It was his unique laugh, a shrill, bark-like madness that so often escaped him.

"What?" she said, "what is it?"

"I do hope this is a good read," he said, dropping the green leather novel onto the couch beside her, "because you risked your life for it."

"Oh, but how did you…"

"Let's just say," he said, beaming, "I had struck a deal with a certain book store owner in town. A small deed, as it was, but I knew a favor from him would come in handy eventually."

Belle, though her lips still felt cold and chap, granted him a smile. "That was a very kind thought. If you find the time to read this, I'm sure we can have a lovely discussion over it."

"Oh I'll be looking forward to that, Dearie," he said. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be leaving now. Please refrain from killing yourself in my absence."

**Hey. Tell me what you think of all rumple/belle chapters that don't include their storybrooke other halves. Good? Too fluffy? I just have so much fluff in my brain that I want to let out! Haha Well as always, I'm up for suggestions or comments of any kind. Thanks for reading.  
><strong> 

**P.s. The show's getting super good, huh? I sure hope that Katherine is still alive, locked away like Belle. And then, since he's now teamed up with Emma, Gold might wonder down there looking for Katherine and find Belle and… well, I'll let your imaginations take it from there ;)**

**Like my shit? Check this then..**

**.com/ **


	8. Chapter 8

She was dusting the bookshelf, moving swiftly. And although she was facing the other direction, she must have heard him enter. "You have so many books," she noted.

Gold took a seat at his desk. He searched through papers, trying to appear busy (when in reality, he had only entered the office to be near her). "Words are beautiful things," he replied.

Belle stopped dusting and took a step back to admire her work.

"And books just _look_ beautiful sometimes, you know? They're always so simple, so welcoming."

Gold's eyes swept over Belle's thin figure. "Extremely beautiful," he said.

She turned, looking at him for the first time. "Busy?" she asked.

"Not too much," he said, adjusting his paperwork.

"Going to the shop today?"

In truth, he had been neglecting his beloved pawn shop. But how could anyone expect him to stay there among dusty old antiques when Belle, so sprightly and stunning, was here?

"In a while," he answered, and then added, "Oh, do feel free to borrow any of the books from the shelf."

Her eyes light up a little. She turned her attention back to the books, perusing them. "I'll take… _this _one."

And from the shelf, she selected a small, green book. _Her _book.

And at recognizing the irony of her choice, Gold could not contain himself. He let out a laugh that, to Belle, was highly unlike him—a high pitched squeal of a sound that contagiously made her laugh as well.

"What was _that_?" asked Belle.

Gold, thinking of the book and teacup, swept a tear from the corner of his eye. He didn't know what to say, and he was starting to feel embarrassed over his Rumple-like noises.

"I've never heard anyone with such a cackle!" Belle went on.

Gold stood up. "and you won't tell a soul about mine!" he commanded.

"Oh, come now. I think it's endearing."

He snorted and reached for his cane.

"Oh, don't leave on account of one laugh. I like it. I swear. You should do it again!"

"Not in this life time," he sneered. But Belle was rapidly approaching him.

"I bet I can make you laugh," she said.

He looked down at her. "With what, my dear, silly faces and knock-knock jokes?"

And as a reply, her hands came flying up. Soon she was reaching under his open suit and tickling him. "If you think…" he said, but he could barely keep from laughing and squirming.

She continued until he felt short of breath. And then, giggling, her hands proceeded to wrap around his torso and into a hug.

Gold was so surprised that his cane clattered to the floor. It was brief, her body pressing against his, the smell of her skin like grass and spring…

She backed away, blushing. _Hell, _he thought, _did she look beautiful when she blushed._

"If you're buttering me up for more hours off… " he began joking.

"I'd rather you tell me your first name," she admitted.

Gold smirked. "How about a hint?"

"Yes, please!" Belle said excitedly.

"It begins with an R…"

….

Belle had found herself at the diner later that week. Normally, she'd have work at this time, but Regina had arrived to speak to Gold. Gold, thankfully, allowed Belle to leave the presence of that nightmare of a woman.

So she entered the diner. Ruby met her eyes and smiled brilliantly. She turned, murmured something to her grandmother who nodded reluctantly at her.

Belle took a seat in a booth. Instantly, Ruby waltz over and sat across from her.

"Belle," she said, beaming, "I've got something to tell you. I was downtown the other day when, well my grandma's only giving me fifteen minutes off so I'll cut to the point—I've found you a date."

"What?"

"I know, I know. Blind dates are a little middle-school-ish, but I promise this guy's super hot."

Belle crossed her arms over the table. "Why don't you date him then?"

"Because I've talked to him a million times. There's nothing between us. I mean, I have this vision in my head of someone who makes my pulse quicken, someone who'll come to my window and bring me flowers. I don't know why, but I feel like I know what love should be like: dizzying, confusing, comforting…"

Belle listened dreamily to Ruby's words, forcing a certain someone not to resurface in her thoughts.

"Anyway, Alan and you would be perfect. Oh that's his name, Alan Barnes. Cute, right?"

"I don't know," said Belle. "I—"

"There isn't anyone else you've got in mind, is there?" asked Ruby, raising her eyebrows.

"What, of course not!"

"Well," said Ruby, "why not give him a shot then?"

Belle made no reply. So Ruby pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled a number onto a napkin. "Well here is his number. Give him a call."

…

"You look nice," Gold noted shyly as she walked across the living room. She was wearing a casual, yellow dress with a jean jacket pulled over. With her hair half pulled back, she deserved adjectives like 'radiant' or 'striking', but 'nice' was all his courage would allow.

She grinned. "Thank you."

"Going out with Emma?" he asked.

He had been flipping through papers on the couch. _Allows doing paperwork_, she thought. But she said nothing.

"I, uh, actually have a date."

Something flashed across his eyes, something Belle pretended not to notice. "Met someone so soon?" he asked coolly.

"A friend of a friend," she answered. "His name's Alan Barnes."

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again. _Alan Barnes_, he thought, _the man who'd been Gaston…_

"Well," he finally said. "I hope you have a nice evening."

"You too," she said.

The door opened, closed. She was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Alan was a large man, good looking in all aspects: strong jaw, a faultless smile, and masculine eyebrows. He's especially handsome, Belle always thought, when he wears that rose-red color that he was so fond of. He was a kind man; he showered her with compliments, and whenever they'd walk together, he'd usually come across one of his buddies. At moments like these, he'd turn to his friend and say, "See this hot and lovely lady right here? Yeah, well, she's mine."

They went out for several weeks, and Belle enjoyed herself. That is, for the most part.

He was kind, handsome, protective… _But oh gawd, _Belle thought_, if he talks about his favorite sports team one more time. _

But all was well. Belle would go out with him to dinner or a movie, kiss him fondly good-night, and then return to Gold's company. At least with Gold, she could make up for the hour's lack of intelligent conversation. He and her spoke of everything, the characters and themes of the books they'd shared, history, antiques, gossip, and life.

Only one subject never came up, and that subject's name was Alan.

Nonetheless, brick by brick, the walls between Belle and her employer began to slowly crumble, and mostly he felt more like a roommate than anything else.

"I'm fairly sure," said Belle as they sat together on the living room couch, "that I have guessed every R name in the English language."  
>"Ah, but there are plenty other languages in the world. Why not start with Romanian and work your way to Japanese?" he said.<p>

"You're a cruel man!" she teased.

He smirked.

"One of these days, I'm going to sneak into your files and figure it out for myself," she said.

"Hah!" he said.

"What? You don't think I can? I'm plenty brave."

"Oh I know that," he said. "Too brave for your own good."

"What's that's supposed to mean?" she asked.

He leaned back on the cushion, eyeing her in his knowing way. "I'm only saying, if a preschool were burning down, you'd be one the one running in to save the day…"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"…an orphan in one arm, the class pet in the other..."

"I still can't see what's so wrong with that!" Belle said, laughing playfully.

"Nothing's _wrong_ per say," he said. "However a sensible man like myself would simply call a fireman."

"Oh please, you would probably be making a deal with the fireman… in exchange for, like, giving him water he would have to give you the class pet _and_ the orphan."

He laughed. "You know me well."

"Yet, I don't know your first name!"

"In time, my dear," he said.

"In how much time? Honestly, I wash your underwear everyday. Do you really think… wait, are you _blushing?_ Blushing because I mentioned your underwear?"  
>"No," he said. But alas, his cheeks were flushed.<p>

She laughed loudly at his discomfort. He couldn't keep himself from joining her. "Oh God, you really shouldn't make me laugh like this, or my make-up will run before Alan even gets here."

Gold's mood took a quick plunge downward. "I don't see why you even bother fussing with make-up every time he comes by."

Belle brought her hand to her face, suddenly conscious. "Does it look bad?"

"Of course not. It looks fine but…" he trailed off, looking past her at the wall.

"But what?"

"But you look so beautiful without it, Belle. It just seems like a silly way to invest your time."

She smiled, the kind of gentle smirk reserved only for him.

Then a knock from the door turned her attention elsewhere. "Looks like he's here," she said.

"Yupp," replied Gold.

She put her hand on his knee for a moment. "See you tomorrow," she said. And then she was gone.

Now Gold sat with only his cane beside him. He _hated_ an empty house. He hated not being able to hear her humming to herself as she swept the floor or watch her feed bread crumbs to the birds outside the kitchen window. The privacy that had always been his refuge in this world now became a hellish reminder of one simple fact: that Belle was no longer his.

He got up, cleaned his clothes (he'd be damned if he'd let her mock his undergarments again) and then retired to the library to read. It was only then that he heard a gentle rapping on the front door.

He limped over, swung the door open.

"What brings you to my humble abode this fine evening, Your Majesty?" he asked.

Regina walked in. "Alone, I assume, Rumple."

The door shut with a soft clang. "Not anymore…"

"I want to strike a deal."

"Ah?"

"Let's be frank," she said, "despite all this Belle nonsense, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"You look as though you have a rather strong arm."

"However I do," she went on, "know that you honor your agreements."

"True."

Her eyes turned to his, gleaming with madness. "Is there anything you really want, Rumplestilskin? Or should I say, anything you really want to disappear?"

"What _are _you insinuating?"

"I'm only saying, you can't turn him into a rose this time."

Gold swept his tongue over his lips in thought. "I don't know what you mean."

"I had to choose whether, in this world, he belonged at the bar or at the florists. I thought keeping him a man would prove more helpful. Now it seems like he is rather helpful, helpful in getting your Belle right out of her bra and panties…"

Gold's grip on the handle of his cane tightened. "Enough!" he snapped. Although the thought often invaded his mind, he had no desire to hear it spoken aloud. "What do you want?"

"It seems as though dear little Mary Margret keeps finding her way back to her prince. And that may just ruin the security of our world."

Gold paused in thought. Finally, he nodded his head and said. "I'll take care of it. Give me time."

"And I'll take care of him."

….

They went to a restaurant, Be Our Guest, and it was probably the finest dining Storybrooke had to offer. However, looking over at Alan's T-shirt and jeans, Belle couldn't help but think that he was horribly underdressed.

The toothpick that he'd gotten from the front desk remained wedge between his teeth. "Nice place, huh?"

"Oh it's just lovely," Belle replied.

"Well order anything you want," he said. "Damn. Look at this, they've even got escargot. That's snail, you now."

He went on about how once his friend had tricked him into eating snail by claiming it to be sliced apricot. However Belle wasn't listening. She stared at the golden candle stick in the center of the table, watching the tiny flames dance.

"And then Roger told me it would taste better with barbeque sauce…" he was saying.

_Roger_, Belle thought. Had she guessed Roger yet? She must have.

"…I drank three beers to get the taste out of my mouth…"

_R-r-rudolf? Reggie? Roy?_ No, she'd guessed all of those before.

"… and then at the end of the night, I—"

"Ruepert!" She said. He paused, raising an eyebrow. Belle, who hadn't realized her name-guessing had slipped the confines of her mind, stumbled for words. "I-I must have misread that waiter's name. Um, Michael. Silly me."

The waiter, Michael, turned and nodded in their direction.

"So, please go on," she said sweetly.

And Alan had no problem continuing on.

**Here you go guys : ) I'm super excited to write the next chapter, so expect that soon. Also, I may be uploading some original content (the quality of which will far surpass my fanfics) elsewhere so let me know in the reviews if you'd be interested in reading any of that. As always, thanks for reading! Best wishes!**


	10. Chapter 10

Alan walked her up the porch, a hand on the small of her back.

"Is the old man home?" he asked.

"What? Oh, you mean Gold?" she asked, peering at him through the darkness. "Well I suppose so. He might be asleep by now, but probably not since he's usually—"

"Does he care if you have guests?"

They had reached their destination, and Belle stood with her back to the door, looking up at him. "I- I guess not."

He kissed her then, his mouth smooth, forceful, and tasting strongly of his drinks. She felt his hand on her back slide up so that his full arm was enclosed around her. She kissed back, falling into his masculine hold.

When they broke off, his breath was warm and close. "Can I come in?"

A few things clicked in Belle's mind, but before she managed a word, his mouth found hers again. He pried her lips open with his own, making her gasp.

"You like that?" he murmured.

Belle felt the need to retreat, but he gripped her too tightly.

"P-please," she said, managing to pull away. "Not tonight."

He looked through his long lashes down at her. For a moment, Belle thought he would shrink away with a bruised ego. Yet he did quite the opposite. He pressed the full scope of himself against her, until she was plastered between his body and the door. "C'mon. How long have we been going out? And didn't I just buy you that fancy dinner?"

Belle put her delicate hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. But the pressure remained on her, and his kisses moved rapidly down her neck. "Alan, please!"

He chuckled. "What? You afraid that boss of yours will get mad? We can go to my place, if that'll make you more comfortable."

"No, it wouldn't!" she shrieked, squirming away from him.

"What's the problem?" he asked. "Why are you being such a bitch?"

He crushed her against the door, his mouth attacking hers until she was short of breath. "Alan!" she shouted, but he only got fiercer and angrier. "Alan, you get off of me!"

"Shut up," he growled against her. "Just ease the fuck up. Everyone knows you take it from Mr. Gold, so just shut the fuck up and take it from me."

Her mind barely processed his words, but there was no mistaking the vicious tone behind them.

She felt him squeezing her wrist and back. She could hardly inhale. She was trapped, trapped again. Yet this time with a beast.

Nightmares of the asylum came rushing back to her, and before she could calm herself, she was screaming, "Stop! G-Gold! Mr. Gold!"

Alan finally released her, and in the next second, the front door flew open. Belle, who had been leaning dizzily against it, tumbled backward into Gold's arms.

And there she remained, breathing heavily between his chest and cane.

"What are you doing to her?" Gold whispered menacingly as she pressed her face to his neck. "You are _never_ to touch her without her permission."

Alan laughed. "Oh, c'mon. Practice what you preach, Old Man."

"Get out," he said.

Alan just continued to laugh, swinging his arms awkwardly.

"I mean it. I'm not above doing some pretty demented things to scum like you."

"Yeah, I know you're not," Alan said, his voice absent of fear. "But I don't even care. You're not worth the trouble, Belle."

The door slammed, and Belle wasn't sure if it was Gold or Alan who had closed it.

Her heart beat took a while to slow, and she could feel Gold run his hand along her back soothingly.

"He's a bigoted jerk, Belle," Gold said. "You'll never have to deal with him again."

Belle nodded and pulled away slowly. "It's fine. I only need a good shower, I think. Sorry and-and thank you."

She hurried down the hall, away from him. And again, Gold was left to his anger.

…..

She collapsed onto her bed, tired in every sense of the word. Cold water (she had stayed in the shower until the temperature went from scolding to freezing) dripped from her head and onto the pillow.

She felt hurt, week, cowardly.

But mostly, she felt tired, and so she fell asleep.

_A rose with pristine, red petals and a long, thorny stem, was lying on the stone floor. Belle didn't want to, but she had to retrieve it. She walked into the familiar room. Room 43. Her grasp rapped around the flower; the thorns pricked her finger tips; they bled. _

_ All at once, the door slammed behind her. _

_ "Gotcha."_

_ Belle spun around, and there she was. Regina, eyes glistening with a demented gleam. _

Belle woke, screaming as loudly as her raspy voice would allow.

And in he came, just as before, only this time Gold didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her, calming her with whispers. "It's okay, Belle. Everything's okay."

Belle came to her senses soon. She was conscious of the fact that he was holding her, conscious of the fact that she didn't want him to stop.

"Lay with me?"

He agreed, falling back onto the pillows. Belle sprawled her body over his, carefully avoiding his hurt knee, and used his thin shoulder to rest her head on.

She took a deep breath, familiarizing herself further with his elegant scent.

"Reggie," Belle mumbled.

"What? Oh, not that's not it," Gold replied.

"Remus?"

"You've guessed that before."

"Dammit," she said, and they laughed together.

"Belle, I'm sorry about that oaf," said Gold after a while. His arm tightened protectively around her. _It's amazing,_ Belle thought, _how the same hold could feel so much more welcoming from him than from Alan, or anyone else, for that matter. _

"It's alright. I never liked him all that much anyway," she said.

She felt his chest rise and lower. _Relief?_

"You deserve a man who will worship you," he went on. Belle scoffed. "No, really, you do!"

"No one will ever worship me, the crazy psychopath, fresh out of the loony bin."

"Who's called you that?" he asked fiercely.

"I just know that they're all thinking it," she said. Her mind went back to Alan's words. _We know you take it from Mr. Gold…_ Is that what they all thought? That she was just his little plaything?

"If I didn't own this place, I'd get the Hell away from Storybroke," he said.

"Take me with you?"

He stroked her hair tenderly. "But of course. I'd take you anywhere: a beach, a big city, the wilderness…"

"How about a palace?" she giggled.

He laughed darkly. "Ah yes, that's where you belong, isn't it?"

She pictured in her head all the places she could go, _they _could go rather. And the idea of it made her insanely happy. All thoughts of Alan had temporarily fled her mind, and she focused only on the man beneath her, how fond she was of him…

"Thank you, Gold," she said. "I'll never know why you're so kind to me."

"In comparison to how I treat everyone else?"

"No," she said. "I meant, in comparison to how most other people treat me. Like, some are nasty, some are alright, but you—you're simply perfect."

"Me? The perfect one?" he said, chuckling. "I think you have us confused. Me, I'm the troubled one. And you are the epitome of perfection, the brilliant light that I've been lucky enough to have shine on me…"

Belle paused. She was use to Gold's hesitant compliments, but never has he been so down right honest and charming.

And all she had to do was turn her head slightly to be exposed to Gold's slender neck. She kissed the soft skin and felt his body tense beneath hers. Her lips traveled upward, past his hair and beneath his ear, then to the jaw line. She peered down at him through the darkness, wondering if his lips would speak anything before she kissed them.

"Belle," he said gently. "I don't think now's the right time."

His words must have weighed a hundred pounds. Her cheeks flushed. "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry."

She began to squirm off him. But he caught her. "Please stay," he said.

Confused, she let him lead her back into his arms. Soon she was on his shoulder just like before.

"Believe me, I want you," he said. "But now isn't… isn't right."

He kissed her on the top of the head, making Belle's spirits lift.

"Now sleep, my beautiful Belle, and dream sweetly."


	11. Chapter 11

Gold woke to a siring pain in his knee. He shot up, stifling a yelp.

The light filtered in through the open window, and he blinked until the pain faded and his eyes began to adjust.

He realized then that he was in Belle's room. This time, he had waked first, meaning there was time to eye her greedily as she slept. She was just a few inches away from him, lying on her stomach with her hands beneath the pillow and her head turned away toward the other direction.

Her knee was bent outward. That's what must have hit his own causing him to wake, Gold realized. However, he didn't mind much at all; listening to her gentle breathing could easily become his favorite pass time.

It took all his self-control not kiss her awake, whispering again and again that she was his life.

But no, he thought, it couldn't be done that way.

To break the curse, to make her remembered who she was, their kiss must be that of true love… He had to be absolutely sure that she really, truly loved him. But for now, he was merely a band aid to a broken heart and a warm body to settle her nightmares. Well, at least it was a start.

After a while, Gold allowed himself to press his chest against her back gently. He swept her brown curls to the side so that her long, pale neck was perfectly exposed. He placed a lasting kiss on her skin and felt her wake beneath him.

"Good morning, Dearie," he whispered and kissed the spot again.

She giggled. "Morning, Mr. Gold," she said. "I would roll over and look at you, but…"

"But what?" he mumbled against her skin.

"But I just woke up and my breath is probably horrendous."

He laughed, squeezing her tightly before rolling away.

She rolled onto her back, her head cocked over to gaze at him.

"I finished that last book you loaned me," she said.

"The fantasy one?" he asked.

She reached over, finding his hand amongst the many sheets. "Yupp, and it was amazing. I particular liked the… the prince in disguise."

"Did you? Quite a charmer, I suppose."

"He reminded me of you."

"Oh?" he smiled.

"The way he was always misconstrued but still fascinating. You know, a mystery to be unsolved."

He squeezed her hand tightly.

They continued on, chatting pleasantly. Neither Belle nor Gold was quite sure which stage of a relationship they were particularly on. But the lying-in-bed-snuggling-and-talking-about-literature stage seemed a perfectly fine category for each of them.

Finally, Gold left the bed reluctantly. "I have to shower, go to work."

Belle sat up. "Can I come with you?"

"To the shop? Well, I suppose you could help with the—"

"No," she said. "I meant to the shower." Her eyes gleamed mischievously.

Gold chuckled and caught her lightly by the chin, tilting her head up. "What will I do with you, my little temptress?"

"I can think of a few things…"  
>He leaned forward, and Belle felt the magnetic pull toward him. She puckered her lips, eager for a kiss that never came. His mouth merely brushed across her forehead. With a "See you soon" he limped out the door.<p>

Belle remained seated on the edge of the bed. Recalling the past day's events, contemplating her feelings for Gold… how could she be so mindless happy and so maddeningly confused all at once?

She inhaled deeply and ran her hand over the back of her neck.

…..

Rumplestilskin watched her from across the room. She was absorbed in a book, remaining placid and unaware of his existence.

So he grabbed the pillow that rested beside him on the couch. Using a bit of magic, he shrunk it down until it fit into the palm of his hand.

He tossed it—his aim impeccable. It bounced off her forehead, and she squealed aloud in surprise and agitation.

"Rumple!" she cried. "What was that for?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "You were being boring."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that I was responsible for your entertainment," she said bitterly.

"You've been reading that book all week," he said.

"Well it happens to be really good."

"What's it about?"

"You don't know?" Suddenly, her smile filled with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's a famous story. It's traveled worlds, you know. Come over here and I'll tell you all about it."

Rumple found his way to the seat beside hers on the couch.

"Gone With The Wind is about a war and …"

"All those pages about war? How retched!" he said.

"You didn't let me finish," Belle huffed. "It's also about love and strength and overcoming ignorance. I've only just begun but right now the main character, Scarlett, is at a town event. She desperately wants to dance, but she's widowed, so she can't."

"That's silly. The damn fool should just dance if she wants to so badly."

"It's not that simple."

"It's dancing, how complicated can it be?"

"Oh, you're just ruining the story," she said.

"Fine. I am _ever _so sorry, Dearie, please go on."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, closing the book softly. "She made a mistake, choosing to change her life forever in one frantic moment. Now the world goes on in front of her, young and alive, while she is left unable to even have the simple joy of dancing."

Rumplestilskin lacked words. He watched her watching the wall and suddenly understood. A horrible guilt overcame him. A mistake…

"Do _you_ want to dance too Belle?"

She shrugged. "I mean, I haven't danced since—"

"Then I shall get you the finest band! And all the best dancers in the realm will be in this very living room so that you can take your pick!"

Belle giggled. "Or you could just dance with me."

"Well, if you'd rather…"

Belle stood up and pulled him to his feet. With the wave of his hand, music filled the room.

He bowed. "A dance, my lovely southern belle?"

They came together, and he swirled her across the living room.

"So how'd you know about the South?" she asked above the music.

"What?"

"I never told you that Scarlett lived in the South."

He smirked. "You caught me, Dearie. I've read it three times."

She laughed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder as he swayed her around.

"A secret romantic, are we?" she teased.

"Ha!" He dipped her back. "You seem to forget that you are quite literally dancing with the devil."

Swiftly, he pulled her up again so that their faces were close.

"You are not a devil, or a monster, or a beast, Rumplestilskin. You are a man—a man of dark magic, maybe, but a good-hearted man none the less."

He was caught off guard by the frankness of her words. He let go and stumbled backward awkwardly.

"Is my dance over so soon?" she asked.

"Yes well, there are still chores to be done."

She pouted and reluctantly left the room. 


	12. Chapter 12

Regina smiled like the Cheshire Cat—a sinister thing, to be sure.

Alan had been working on his car engine outside. With greased hands and sweat dripping down his temples, his appearance may have embarrassed him had he been a more humble man. Instead of blushing, he merely wiped him hands on his jeans, stepped away from the car, and smiled back at the mayor.

"Morning, Alan," She said.

"Morning, Miss Mayor. What brings you here?" His voice was smooth, flirty.

"I drove past yesterday and noticed you working on this old thing," she said. It was a classic car belonging to his wealthy parents.

"Yeah, I'm fixing up the engine. Then it'll be all ready to ride," he said.

"So it's just you then? No one else?"

"No we're… all alone," he said with a wink.

Regina smirked. "You'll be here the same time tomorrow, I trust?"

"Yeah," he said. "I will. If you want to stop by."

"I just might."

…

Days went by slowly and leisurely. Gold often skipped work and opted instead to sit by the fire with Belle cozy in his arms.

It was a difficult task, making her love him but not letting their mouths meet.

That day, for instance, she had rolled her body so that she nearly straddled his lap.

"I can see the reflection of the flames in your eyes," she said. "It's so beautiful."

"You'd probably get a better view if you turned around and looked at the actual fire, Dearie," he said. She laughed, pulling him by his shirt's collar until their noses nearly met.

"_You_ are far hotter," she said.

"And _you___are the most striking creature I have ever seen," he replied.

She drew closer until, reluctantly, Gold turned his chin.

She was left kissing his jawline. "Why do you always do that?" she said. "Just kiss me, Dammit."

He looked back at her. "Aggressive, are we?"

"You tease," she pouted. "It isn't fiar."

"I'll make you a deal," he said, "I'll kiss you once you guess my name."

"Cheater," she said, muzzling into the crook of his neck.

When he laughed, she could feel his chest rise and lower beneath her. The comfort never failed to amazing her; it was almost as if she'd been wayward and wandering until, finally, he had helped her find herself.

…

Henry knocked once, then twice, on Emma's door. Mary Margret answered. "Oh, Henry. Does your mother know you're here?"

"Yes, actually," he said. "She sent me."

"_She_ sent you?" she asked as he walked in.

` "Yupp. She said she would be out all morning and that Emma could watch me."

"Well, Emma just… just left to the market. I'm sorry wait, your mother sent you?"

"Yes!" said Henry, plopping down onto the couch. "So hard to believe?"

Mary Margret laughed. "Guess not."

"So Emma's out?"

"Yeah, she needed to run some errands—go to the market, gas station, pawnshop."

Suddenly Henry sprang up. "Oh, wonderful! I'll meet her there."

"Where?"

"At the pawn shop."

"Henry you shouldn't—" but he left. The shop was, after all, only down the street and Emma would be there soon, so Mary Margret let him go.

….

Emma walked in, hearing at first only the soft sound of the bell above the door. Then came laughter, male and female. She looked around but quickly figured that the sound was coming from behind locked doors.

"Eh-hem?"

A moment later, Belle emerged from the back room, smiling brightly. "Emma!" she said. "It's been forever."

"Yeah it has," she replied. "Are you, uh, working here too now?"

"Oh no. Gold just lets me hang around to keep each other company," she said.

At the sound of his name, Gold came limping out until her reached the counter. "What brings you here today, Miss Swan?"

Emma proceeded to talk to the old man. (Some controversy involving the legal owner of an abandoned car near the road, with a license plate which read STEALTHY, whatever that meant.) They discussed in their normal matter, although he did seem rather cheerful. When he promised to look into the matter, Emma retreated toward the door.

"Belle, Mary Margret and I are just hanging around since it's our day off, if you want to come by and order some take out," she offered. Was she really that bored that she wanted to hang around Gold all day?

She grinned and turned to Gold. "Get on, then," he said.

Emma held back a surprised little gasp when Belle casually leaned forward and placed a kiss on his hallow cheek. "Bye, babe."

Gold starred down at the counter, avoiding Emma's eyes. "Have fun, Dearie."

Belle grabbed her coat and, just as they turned to leave, Henry appeared at the open doorway. He smirked knowingly and instantly Emma could tell that he had witnessed the small exchange of affection.


	13. Chapter 13

He shouldn't have told her about the book. She had, quite literally, been reading Gone With the _bloody_ Wind all day. As hard as he tried at the start of the week to pry her off of him, now that she was totally absorbed in her book, he missed her sourly.

She sat on the sofa, lost in her pages. Gold eyed her greedily. Her neck was so deliciously exposed, and he couldn't help but sit beside her and trail her skin with kisses.

"_Gold_," she sighed gently.

"Yes, my pet?"

"I need to finish my page."

He receded, pouting. "What part are you on?"

"They're dancing," she said.

Gold watched her blue eyes run along the sentences eagerly. After a while, he stood up and turned on the radio. Slow, wordless music filled the room.

"Wouldn't you rather live it?"

Belle put down her book. Beaming, she adopted a Southern accent. "Oh why Rhett, I simple couldn't. The scandal will send all of Storybrooke into a civil war."

He offered her his hand. "Frankly, Dearie, I don't give a damn."

Giggling at their corniness, Belle accepted his offer. Together they swept across the room. He limped, of course, but he managed to do it in tune with the music.

With her arms around his neck, she let her hands play with the tips of his long hair.

"So, it's not Rhett?" she asked. "What about Reggy?"

"Nope," he said.

Her fingers ran the length of his neck. "Just tell me so that I can kiss you."

"Belle," he said, and it was almost a whisper. "If you left here, you could do so much better than me. My beautiful little minx, don't you know that you could have anyone?"

A little crease appeared between her eyes. It took her a moment, but finally she said, "No one else in this town, or anywhere I suspect, is like you. You're…like a mystery, a puzzle. And every little piece I find just makes the whole picture more beautiful."

"But Belle…"

"And I know, I _know_ what everyone will say about us—that I'm a stupid child and you're a manipulative monster. But that's only because they don't see the picture I see."

They had stopped dancing. And Gold could feel her body pressing against his, warm and gentle and pure.

"But I _am a monster_," he admitted.

"Well then I love you anyway," she said defiantly.

And now Gold could no longer hear the music, could no longer see anything but her, or feel anything thing but his thunderous heartbeat. He leaned down and, slowly, brushed his lips against hers.

He retreated instantly, and caught sight of her smile before backing away and limping as fast as he could until he reached his room.

Belle was left alone in the living room as the door slammed shut.

….

Gold remained in his room for the rest of the night, damning himself for his foolishness. Of course, she didn't love him. She was a young girl; she was a child, and what she loved was only a fantasy, a fake front that he had created a long time ago. But not him. No, never him.

He had been too eager, too greedy. And their first kiss was lost and she would never remember.

He inhaled deeply and lay back on the bed.

He intended to fall asleep, but instead, he found himself counting the little indents on the ceiling. It was his gift for details that kept him going. He occupied his mind by counting up to 1340 before his eye drifted shut.

He slept for hours, and he did not dream.

He woke with a start sometime later when the door to his room creaked open. The lights flickered on and Gold sat up quick enough to send pain radiating through knee.

Belle stood in the doorway—her pale yellow night gown flowing effortlessly off her body, her hair a matted mess, and her eyes wide and bloodshot.

"I'm sorry to—to disturb you, but I just thought of a name," she stuttered. "Is it, Rumple?"

Gold's words felt caught in his throat as he stood up. Finally, he managed to whisper, "you've guessed it, Dearie."

Belle's eye rounded and then, instantly, her face contorted with anger. "I've been up all night, trying to convince myself that these memories were fake! Trying to stay _sane_ so that I wouldn't end up back in that god damn asylum that _you_ let me rot in all those years!" Tears of frustration started streaming down her checks and she paced the room. "Then you make me—make me _fall in love_ _with you_ all over again? After casting me off the first time I tried? Leaving me confused, trapped. You, you monster, Rumplestilskin."

"Belle, I'm sorry," he managed to whisper.

"Why would you—"

"I didn't know. I thought—" as he took a step forward to reach out to her, a searing pain shot up his knee. Yelping, he dropped back onto to the bed. "Belle, I love you. I do."

She hesitated, watching as he stretched out his leg while wincing in discomfort.

"Let me explain?" he pleaded.

"Fine," she said. She sat beside him on the bed. "Start at the top. How'd you hurt this damn knee?"

"Oh, that. I was in the first ogre's war," he began slowly. "I had no choice, of course, and quite frankly I wasn't much of a solider. I managed to stay alive, thinking mostly of my boy. Baelfire, his name was. But they were dropping like flies. We might as well have _been_ flies to those monstrous things…"

Belle's eyes took him in completely, hanging on every heavily-accented word.

"One of the battles, I—I saw them coming just around the hill. And I ran. Took a horse, and ran. The rest of my group…"

Belle waited patiently as he recalled the event.

"They were all killed. _This," _he gestured toward his knee, "was my punishment."

"What happened next?" Belled whispered.

"Word spread, and my name became dirt among the villagers. My wife left me, which of course pained me worse than any blow to my knee. But it had been an arranged marriage anyhow, and I still had my boy." He closed his eyes, and Belle took the opportunity to begin massaging his hurt knee. She easily fingered the mutilated knee through the soft fabric of his pajamas.

"But the war called for more… Bae, that's what I call him, was about to turn of age to fight when I became, well, what you've known."

"And you lost him? To the war?"

"No, I… the curse fell upon me. It was unexpected but useful, and I ended the war before anyone could lay a finger on my boy. But he wanted the curse to be broken for the same reasons as you, I suppose."

"Because it altered you, filled you with darkness," Belle said. Her hand on his leg felt soothing and warm, and it stretched passed the knee—along his shin and slightly higher up his thigh.

"So he obtained great magic that would take us here…" he looked in pain, though not from his injury. "And again, my cowardice cost me. He was so brave, so heroic, my boy… he used the magic and I was too afraid to follow. And I lost him. Then, I lost you. And The Queen had told me you were dead."

Belle gasped. "So that's why I was in the hospital?"

"And that's why I never found you." For the first time in a long while, he looked her in the eye. "So when I discovered you, I thought that maybe if you loved me, we could break the curse…"

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "You fool," she said, "I've been in love with you all this time. You didn't need to wait this long to kiss me."

Her hands slid up his chest, his neck, until she was cupping his face.

"Left over traces, I suspect, from the past life."

"Doubting yourself again?" she said. "Maybe I just really, _really_ love you no matter what situation we're in."

He wrapped his arms protectively around her. "And I love you."

"So… I believe we've made a deal."

As he had promised, Gold leaned down. Their mouths met effortlessly. From there, it was all eager lips and warm, sweet breath. And their holds on each other tightened.

"Do you forgive me?" he mumbled against her lips. She didn't reply, but instead sought access into his mouth with her tongue. Willingly, he complied.

It wasn't long before she was falling back onto the bed, pulling him on top of her. Little gasps escaped her mouth with every heavy kiss along the throat. And as pajamas shed off, promises were exchanged. _To love him forever, _to give her everything she'll ever need, to find his son…

And, most of all, to share their happily ever _after_.

**Hey guys! I miss hearing from you all! Please tell me what you think and what you thought of the big (SPOILER) reunion. **


	14. Chapter 14

Ruby didn't particularly enjoy the movie. It was a "dude" movie, with explosions and boobs and gore. Then again, since Alan so avidly suggested it, Ruby really had no reason to be surprised.

Ruby only had an hour break and he was nowhere in sight. "Alan?" she called, making her way down his driveway. Then she saw a pair of boots sticking out from beneath his old car. "Alan," she said again. "I've got that DVD I borrowed… hello?"  
>He didn't move. Finally, Ruby bent down (much to the discomfort of her tightly clad jeans) and tugged at his pants. He was on a skateboard and he came rolling out. His eyes stared up at her, not seeing a thing. His jaw was slack; his hands lank.<p>

Ruby fell backward and her scream sounded like a terrified howl in the quiet suburbs.

…. …. … ….

Belle traced her finger across his protruding collar bone. "It'll be hard for me to remember that it's Mr. Gold and not Rumplestilskin in public," she said thoughtfully.

"Are we going public with this, Belle?" he asked.

She stopped tracing and met his eyes. "I'd like to. I'd like the entire world to know how much I love you."

He smiled at her. "As you wish."

She exhaled and laid her head back down onto his bare chest. It was what? 12:00? And they had only left the bed long enough to brush their teeth and eat some breakfast.

"So why this world?" asked Belle.

He stroked her hair absently. "My boy…"

"Right, of course. We'll find him. I promise you, Rumple."

Truth was, in the past few days, Gold had been neglecting his duties. But having _his_ Belle in his life again, well, who could blame him? She planted soft kisses across his chest. She truly was irresistible. He'd really only managed to leave the house while she slept, which was often strange hours of the night. When he'd return, she'd be waiting for him with a smirking smile. "Where have you been, my night owl?"

"Attending to business, my love," he'd reply.

As he stroked her hair gingerly, the phone rang out. Belle rolled off of him to answer it.

"Ruby? Ruby, what's the matter…" Gold watched her. Her creamy white skin caught the light beautifully, but shadows played across her face—she was distraught. "What!? Oh my God. I… had no idea. Yeah, yeah of course I will."

"What is it, Dearie?" he asked, sitting up.

"Alan," she said simply. The phone was beeping off the line but she didn't bother to move her hand, "is dead."

Gold's eyebrow rose. "Dead?"

She nodded. "Oh, oh Gods. Dead. Murdered. The last things I said, _did_, to him. Oh Gods, dead. His poor family. I… I need …" She got up and dressed quickly. "Emma said she wants me down at the Sheriff's station to give some information. I don't know how long I'll be out."

Without bothering to do her hair and make-up, Belle was out the door. Gold sat, suddenly aching in her absence. After a long while, he got up and dressed. His entire body was sore from long ago abandoned activities, and he made his way to the living room with a particularly painful limp.

There came a gentle rapping at the door and Gold inhaled sharply.

"Madame Mayor," he said. She was beaming at him from the other side of the door way.

"Just saw your little pet passing by. She really doesn't get out much, does she? I've been waiting ages to talk with you."

"Whatever you did," Gold began hotly, "It needs to be fixed. This was not what I wanted."

"There's no _fix_ to death. Surely you know that."

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

Regina ran her hand smoothly down the door frame. "And don't worry, no one's not locked up this time."

"Listen," he said, his voice dangerous and low. "He was already out of my hair. I had no need for you to do this."

"Oh Gosh," she said, bringing her hand up to her O-shaped lips. "I had no idea. You don't think… oh what a terrible thought…"

"What?" he nearly growled.

The sound of the cop car came rushing down the street. "Ops. Guess they _do _think."

**Hey everyone. I know. I'm sorry. It's been ages but I'm determined to finish! If anyone out there is still reading this, please comment and let me know. **


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